Oh, the places you will go.

I thought I’d share a few of the thoughts that rolled around my head during my most recent massage. Here goes...

“Welcome to the G-Spa, MommaKiss,”

Snort. It’s seriously called the G-Spa*. like g-spot. snort.

“I see you’ve chosen the deep-tissue massage today. Unless you have any questions, I’ll give you a moment to undress and lie face down on the table.”

Oooh, this room is nice. Moodily dark and smells all spa like. Ok. He looks good. Clean. I can totally relax.

And he has clean breath. More points.

Damn, why can I never get my face positioned right in these things. The circle thing. With a wash cloth all around it. Who makes this thing anyway.

K, think I’m in. One more little shift. My eyes are all squinty I’m smooshing my face in so hard.

Christ, my nose is so going to drip out of the hole here. Right onto the floor.

knock-knock. “All set MommaKiss?”

“yesh, ourff courvse. (I can’t speak because my head is buried in this towel padded head ring thing)”

Hope he doesn’t mind that I took my underwear off. I mean really, it’s a thong, there’s not much fabric there anyway. And they always tuck the sheet into the thong...Ooh, he just brushed my butt crack.

Listen, I love this ‘warm up’ routine, but get to the pressure already!

Ok. Ouch. That was big…knot…owie…OWIE…ok, it’s almost over. Deep breaths. Oh my god, this is going to bruise…

Whew. Onto the one on the other side.

Why do you get so much oil in my hair? Really? Goosebumps…oh, that feels good. I’ll just wash my damn hair.

He’s moving down the back.

My upper butt. He is really digging into the cheeks...how can there be knots in my ass? seriously? OUCH, holy mutherfuckin OW that hurt, but it's going to feel good after. I know it will. Is he using his elbow?
He’s not - Oh no, he’s going to touch my legs.

Actually massage my legs.

Oh the cellulite he’s going to see.

Well, really, I’m sort of in shape. I bet he’s seen worse. He’s seen worse. I’m sure he has.

This is no big deal – OMG, my toes just curled. That was good pressure right there. Wait, did his finger just brush my cooch? Just a little bit?

I mean – what now – the calf? Thank god I shaved my legs! God, can you imagine if some people are all hairy and nasty…

My other leg? Sweet jesus, this is making me uncomf…

My cooch! I swear as he’s kneading the back of my leg his finger brushed it again. Do I say something?

This could get awkward. In a good way

STOP THAT MommaKiss! He’s a professional! Which means, he’s a professional (smirk).

Oh I have to roll over now. Wherein my cooter will be face up? Hold that sheet higher, please! I’m all limp here and can’t roll that quickly.

Ok. On my back now. My drippy nose can drip back into my brain cavity while I…

My neck. You’re killing me with this neck massage. In a good way. Oh your hands..

Can he see that zit on my neck? God, why do I still get acne at 35? He must be able to see it. Or at least feel it. Christ. Move on – oh the arms…

Maybe you should go back to the neck. My forearm? Who knew that would feel so glorious. I have to stop playing on my blackberry so much, those forearm muscles are all tight and…

My upper leg.

Are you kidding me? You’re going to knead my thighs. And did you seriously just tuck that sheet in a little too far? My thigh. You’re too close – oh, that felt Good! I should do this more often.

I really should get a massage more often. Like once a month. Twice. I wonder how much it would cost to have someone come to me. How nice would that be? An in home masseuse…

My feet. He’s massaging my feet and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I swear to god, the things I would do to have this done at the end of every night I’d…

“Ok, MommaKiss, our time is up. I hope that everything was ok for you.”

It’s over? You’re done? You can’t be.

“Oh. Thank you, it was lovely.”

Gimme my water, I need to go take a nap.


*the room? in their overview page? that's the couples room. nice & dark, eh? it was pure bliss.

On the reservation

What day is it anyway? JEEZ. I’m such a ditz.

I guess I got all discombobulated by my killa give away ;)

I love that word. Discombobulated. Dis. Disco. ComBob. Mbob. Bob. BobUlated…so many fun things to make my brain stray. What am I talking about here?

Oh. Right. My weekend away! Well, it was just a night away. And it was fabulous.

On Saturday morning we headed south to a resort casino. Decided to share some of our money with the Indians (Feather, not Dot). We arrived around lunch time and shopped for a little bit. I bought myself two bead things for my Pandora bracelet. If you’re in the know on this little bracelet situation – I actually just got spacers. But they’re sparkly and supah pretty. Finished shopping and then we quick-like changed so that we could work out before our spa treatments.

Yes. While ‘away’ from reality, we chose to work out. I ran myself a lil 5k on the treadmill.

Took a ‘rainforest shower’ and it was massaaaaaaahhhhhge time. We did one of those couples massage rooms – which honestly wasn’t a big whoop. We’re not really the schmoopy, lovey, this is so romantical type. Meh – the couples room -it was nice.

The massage itself? HEAVEN. My therapist was approximately 8 feet tall and had hands that could (and probably have) crush things. He crushed a few of my things. Because I told him to. I have bruises on my ass to prove it. I was a limp noodle walking out of there. Didn’t have to walk far, though. I had a facial planned too. Which was glorious as well…because who doesn’t love hearing about her ‘aging skin’ and how much caffeine and alcohol dehydrate you? ThE HoRRor! I tried to ignore her and came out with a clean, glowy, dewy face. I felt amazing.

After a much needed nap we got ready for dinner. I scooted Mr. Kiss out of the room so I could get ready in peace. (Really, I didn’t want him to see me doing the Spanx Dance). And that was sort of cool to look all pretty and meet him in the bar ala Pretty Woman.

Dinner was delish, but we totally scrammed so that I could get my hands on some chips. I’m a sucker for roulette. We watched at a $25 dollar table for a little bit. One guy was winning, which apparently started when I sat down to watch. When I got up, he asked me to stay until the end of the next roll. So I did. And he won again. And went nuts and gave me one of his chips. It was only $25 – but dayum, it made me feel HOT! Like Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal. (shut up – could be considered similar)

I ended up playing at a $10 table for over 2 hours. So much fun. And I definitely came out ahead of the game that night. I can see how people become addicted. Basically they paid me to gamble and drink. I shoulda just put it to the spa bill. We went to a club and drank some more.

We were up WAY Too late for old fogies and paid for it on Sunday. The minute we walked in the door the boys went apeshit and asked how our “private time” was. Um. Wha? Gram & Gramps, what are you telling them?

Moral of the story: I'd do it again in a heart beat! Leaving your kids to act like kids once in a while is SO needed. But if memory serves - I'll space it out just a wee bit. My bruised buttocks, aging skin and aching liver need the rest.


*i've been wordy! don't forget to check my PSA on adding an e-mail to your blogger ID.

*and enter my first ever give away! Winner chosen on Friday!

I wanna talk back!! [e-mail linked to comments]

If you have a blogger ID (and comment here), do me a teeny lil favor? Pleeeeease (yes, I'm begging here).

When I get the 'noreply-comment@blogger.com' I die a little inside.  I prefer to respond to comments via e-mail and, well, when I see this, we just can't have coffee tawlk, now can we?

Here's a quickie tute - which I've seen in a few places (so I know I'm not alone here).

1. Go to your Dashboard.


2. Click on Edit Profile.

3. Look in the Privacy section.

4. Make sure the Show My Email Address box is checked.

5. In the Identity section, enter the email address you'd like linked to your blog.

6. Scroll to the bottom of the page and click Save.

I'm done teaching.

That was exhausting!

My first give away. Because I Rock.

I’ve never done a give away on mah blog.

That’s about to change.

I feel like paying it forward. Good Karma, if you will.

Here we go!

That Just a Mom shirt I was bragging about last week? From Mom’s Rock Shop? Well I want to share the love.

So I’m giving away a $50 gift certificate to her store! AND – Kim said she’d also give the winner an apron from the Mom’s Rock Shop. Because, you know, Mom’s do it ALL and make dinner!

How do you win? All you gotta do is comment here. Tell me your favorite color, favorite food. I don’t care. You could also go visit the shop and tell me which shirt you like. (I may be buying the Legacy shirt for myself soon).

Comment as many times as you want [but try to limit yourself to one per day, don't get greedy now].

Make sure you leave an e-mail address so that I can get in touch when you win! If none, well, then, you're lazy and don't Rock.*

I’ll pick a winner on Friday April 30th.

Totally scientifically and random like *cough*numbers in a hat*cough*

And if you’re of the male persuasion, well, um, I guess don’t see you wearing a “Just A Mom” shirt. Or maybe you would? I don’t judge. My point is, you’re still eligible, of course! Maybe you buy one for your own momma. Or your wife. Or sister.

That’s all folks. Have a great week and good luck!


*can we just all agree that an e-mail address connected to your profile would help everyone out? Pleaseandthanks?

Disclaimer: I'm not being paid for this give away. It's my own money. So, you know, disclaimer over.


4-30 8PM: COMMENTS CLOSED! NOW I HAVE TO PICK A WIENER! 

Just A Mom

I just ordered myself a new t-shirt. My old one was looking a little ragged. Mostly because I wore it too much.

It says "Just a Mom. I don't think so."

Sold by a local company, Mom’s Rock, who’s manifesto is pretty kick ass if you ask me.

Anyway – ‘tis that time of the year I guess. When I wonder if I'm "Just a Mom." Or "Just a Wife." Or "Just a friend."

Hold on and work with me, people.

Ever feel like you just have a gajillion things going on? And no where to go but, well, anywhere but here?

I’m feeling that way. And I’m not even that busy at work. But there’s stuff to be done there because it’s about to get busy. At home, there are projects on my ‘to do’ list that are haunting me.

Literally.

Like a lil voice going “hellooooo, this gorgeous hand drawn picture of your children? The one that a friend drew for you? Right here?? That frame is STILL too small – FIX IT NOW!”

I hear that shit. In my head. Maybe I should get this checked out.

Wait. I already do that. The head shrinking stuff.

So I currently have approximately 17 balls up in the air and I’m juggling and I’m figuring it out.

Want to know what’s helping me? I have accepted (for now) that I’m only one person. And I can only do so much.

And some of it won’t be perfect.

And dust bunnies will breed.

And laundry will pile [oh the muthereffing laundry!]

But my kids?

They will smell of SunScream and mud. They will be tired from giggling and playing. They will be fed. They will (hopefully) remember our play time and not the hairy corners of the living room. They will (also hopefully) respect my decision to work out of the home.

And at the end of the day, they will tell me…all sing-songy…that they love me “more than minty cookies*” and I’ll be completely happy with that.

Am I "just" anything? I don't think so ;)



*thin mints. those little bitches got me again. but they're the best currency going for the boys these days. girl scouts FTW!

Running. Again.

Big Happenin's around the town this past weekend.

On Sunday, I ran in a road race. I had registered for it in March (after running my first EVAH 5k. In the rain. And sleet.) Anyway - I had registered hoping that the weather would be better. Go Figure, living in New England, rain was predicted. And cold. So the night before I'm all "do I go? do I sleep in? do I drink more of this wine?" while checking the hourly forecast for Boston...and since it said 38 degrees and Rain at 8am on Sunday - I went to bed having decided I was NOT going.

And then I got up at 6.15 on Sunday, checked the weather again, and no rain. Still cold. But just showers in the forecast. I brushed my teeth, slapped on the sneakers and drove into Boston.

Got to admit, it was really really cool to be in Copley Square. This lil 5k was a pre-cursor to the Boston Marathon on Monday and I’m pretty sure some people were running it as a ‘warm-up’ to the big event. Not to mention, my time was so slow, the winner could have easily lapped me.

Point is – I finished it. My time was better than that race in March (by a few minutes) and I feel good just doing it.

So much that I napped for 3 hours that afternoon ;)

[my view at the start. well, my camera's view - i'm vertically challenged]

[the finish line. and no, i was NOT in that wheelchair]

[my "friend" and I {she always ropes me into this shit} at the start]

And then yesterday (Monday) – Massachusetts has this holiday…Patriot’s Day (or Evacuation day?). Pretty much they made a holiday to give some people the day off to watch the Marathon or go to a Sox game or just drink on the side of the street.

As the Marathon goes straight through the middle of our town, Daycare closes.  We took the day off and went to watch the race w/ the boys. They loved it. Truly loved it. The wheel chairs were “racin’ cars.” The people running with artificial limbs had “robot legs.” And just watching the thousands of people go by, doing what many can’t do, well, it was a good morning.

And in the afternoon? As those runners were crossing the finish line in Boston? I napped.

Again.

Getting old ROCKS!

Six Word Saturday

If you need me, Call Target

For Maggie, Dammit

I have this homegirl* Maggie.

She's funny and an amazing writer and stinkin cute to boot**.

She runs this website called Violence Unslienced. I visit VU whenever I can and comment whenever I can. I guess I'm just hoping to show some small words of support for the survivor who must have been a ball of nerves hitting 'publish' on their story.  I've blogged about her site before.

Well now Maggie and her site have been nominated as a Women's Health Hero on Ourbodiesourblog.org

If you wanna build your Karma bank, pay it forward, be a kind soul - mind clicking that link and voting?
Right here?
http://www.ourbodiesourblog.org/blog/2010/04/giving-survivors-a-voice-maggie-ginsberg-schutz

Don't even need to comment unless you want to - just click on the Thumb (tis right under the video) and her site gets a vote.

While you're there, watch that video, y'all. It's inspiring.

Thank You. Thank You Very Much.


*homegirl: Lil White Girl slang for "people of the homeland that I call Sconnie"
**does anyone say "to boot" anymore?

The Corporate Dress Code Policy

I work for a pretty big company.

Fortune 500. Publicly traded. All that jazz. I'm in corporate (yawn) and the majority of the home office employees are in super cool trendy jobs.  Boring or Trendy - we're all here WORKING (most of the time - heh).

So when we get a memo such as the following, I'm a little bit surprised.

Email from CEO. The Chief Frikkin Executive Officer had to send this out:

"It has come to my attention through several emails that some employees in the Home Offices are coming to work dressed in non business appropriate attire." 

"My Company" is a fashion driven company and fashion forward in much of our apparel but some of these styles are truly inappropriate in a business environment.  For this reason we have updated the Home Office Dress Code Policy - attached below.

Here's the updates:

• Updated! Revealing outfits (e.g. exposed midsection, low cut tops that are extremely revealing, crop tops, strapless tops, spaghetti straps, halter or tank tops, halter dresses, see-through clothing, short skirts, clingy clothing and excessively tight pants, skirts or dresses)
• Updated! Shirts that do not come down to a reasonable length when wearing leggings/tights/bare legs
• Updated! Short shorts for women (not including capri pants or “city shorts”)

Have I mentioned that this is New England? And that this came out the first week of April? And that people have worn this inappropriate shit ALL WINTER LONG? Yeah. For Serious.

"Extremely revealing," "See-through clothing," "city shorts."

It's not like we work for Hooters or The Bada Bing!

The non-updated policy notes are sort of just as bad.

Like no shorts for men. (don't need a ball shot, thanks).

No "soiled" or ripped clothing. Um, who's coming to work in pants they just shit in?

Don't answer that...

No rubber flip-flops (because who doesn't love that flap flap flap sound going through the halls when you're discussing corporate policy??)

I would like to add a few rules, which may just work for me and HR probably wouldn't approve, but please - don't need the eye raping:

• camel toe or moose knuckle

• white leggings.

• skinny jeans when you're not remotely skinny

• whale tail.

• layered polo shirts, 3 to be precise, with popped collars.

• banana clips.

Perchance I shall write my own note to the CEO...

Is that a plunger in your hand, or....

There's this local artist in my town who's, um, specialty (?) is making wood sculptures. Like big ones. He uses an existing tree, cuts most of it down, and then carves his sculpture with a chain saw.

Well the elementary school has a cute bear on their front lawn. He's tall and smiley and mainly still 'tree' colored, with some red painted on his cheeks.  It's really adorable.

And then we have this:

This was a tree that grew up in the shape of a 'Y' and I can only guess that the plumbing company decided to step up it's advertising campaign. With Wood Art.

He's a presumed plumber. And this guy is SO HAPPY about plunging that toilet! I mean, yes, he's happy, isn't he? See how happy? The big smile! The gushing from the toilet! I mean NO ONE would assume that's anything 'other' than a toilet gushing, would they? Here's a closer look.

That doesn't look phallic. Not at all.

And sadly, the best part is missing. Someone broke the plunger that the plumber was holding. It used to protrude from his hands and point toward the gushing 'water.'

Did I mention that we drive past this work of art every. single. day?

We do.

Twice.

On the way home, it's on the passenger side, and when there's traffic (almost daily) my little cherubs get a super dee dooper close up view.

I'm just waiting for the day that they want to get out and touch it. Or maybe just take pictures with it? I don't even know...

A few final thoughts: First, the signage for the plumbing company...well, it's not exactly front and center and pointing to this guy. So if you didn't see it (to the right in the top picture)...you may just think some asshole wanted this 'art' on his front lawn. Second, I bet the person who lives next to the plumbing company (upper right corner, top picture) is fearing many think he's That Asshole.

Aren't you happy I shared?

Wonder

I'm staring at this blinking cursor. Have been for a few days.

Do you ever wonder who's reading and who you may help or harm by words?

And so here I sit.

And stare.

And sorta whisper - to you. Yah, you - I love you.

(image per Bing)

How DO you hold a glass with boobs

The past 2 months have been extremely busy. Work. Family. No work/family balance whatsofuckingever.  We all survived.

How?

I'm not quite sure.

Because also? The past month and a half (40 days to be exact) I was off the sauce. Well, just of the WINE flavor. I gave up Wine for lent. Yes, I did. The Jesus Juice. I gave it up and I held up my end of the bargain. Full disclosure: I negotiated with Jesus and we agreed that prosecco is *not* in fact wine, so I had that once or twice.  And beer. Thing is, though, I don't drink beer or prosecco as much as wine so it was a true sacrifice. *cue sad violins

Almost eveyone was aware of this wine-giving-up situation. Found it hilarious, actually - but hey - I was dedicated! (all for Jesus, yo!) One friend - a girl I work with - bought me a present.  She said "to aid in the celebration that is TheEndofLent. A.k.a. Easter." 

Yay me!

I present you with The Glam Glass!

But Wait, there's MORE (say it like the infomercials. sounds better)
BOOBS!

Boobs. Protruding off the glass. And to be honest, this bitch looks a LOT like me. Be jealous. It's OK.

The problem presented itself as I tried to carry the glass. I mean. How do you hold it and not look all inappropriate?

Like this, cupping the back?

Or like this? just gently nuzzling the knockers?

And then I decided - this is ME People! So I went all out and gave the boobs some love.

A little smooch...

A little lick..

And a little tweak for good measure.

Aren't you so happy I shared?

*afterthoughts. Apparently I'm super mature and every time my kids said "Happy Easter!" my mind shifted to "Happy Keester" and then I was tempted to moon them.

Additionally adding to my maturity - the purple finger nails. Yes, people, I really am a 12 year old hiding in this 35 year old body.